Lawrel Victory
by Navvaura
Summary: Lawrel Hawke takes part in the 74th annual Hunger Games. This takes place in an alternate-universe with a bunch of Original Characters. It's somewhat parallel to Suzanne Collins's amazing books... though not as awesome, of course.
1. Prologue

**_Note: This is my first fic and I'm really nervous. Please review so I know what I'm doing well and what I need to work on. Thank you!_  
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**Prologue**

Something in the stillness of my bedroom makes it unbearable to be in. I wouldn't be in here for much longer, anyway, and I'm already wide awake. Might as well do alleviate my discomfort. Swinging my bare legs over the edge of my bed, I scan the space around me, testing that my vision had adjusted to the wee hours of the morning darkness.

Today is the reaping of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games. The day everyone in Panem, besides the Capitol, dreads. Twenty-three kids are going to be killed in the next few weeks. Brutally. For no good reason other than to sate the petty and despicable citizens of the Capitol. How I hate them. But there's nothing I, a seventeen year-old girl from district seven can do. So, each year as the reaping commences, I wait nervously by as the names are chosen at random. And then I watch, along with the rest of Panem, as a boy and girl I might've known are slaughtered. Sick, sick Games.

After an entire night of no sleep, my body is running entirely on adrenaline and nerves. It is like this every year when the horrific possibilities cloud my mind. My brain barely registers the rest of me slipping on my day clothes: which consists of a flannel top, jeans and work boots: my normal-wear. I remember I would be so scared that one of my brothers would be chosen that I locked myself in my room for days and cry. I became sane again when they passed the age cutoff four years ago. Still, every year I dwell on the worst-case scenario in which my best friend Nicola would be chosen for the Hunger Games.

Today is no different. Each morning of the Reaping, Nicola and I venture out of our houses before anyone else is awake, and meet up in the outskirts. As I venture out of my home, I look around the dim-lit streets and settle on the mountains and immense trees that surrounds my hometown. A small river flows between my town and the main one, stretching across the entire seventh district. I don't whip out the flashlight until I'm completely in the dark. Though I know the path by heart, I don't want to take any chances by spraining an ankle. Overlooking the river is a rock formation secluded by forestry. This part is to be left untouched by the lumber mills unless absolutely necessary. I discovered this place with Nicola when we were six and it became a safe haven for us. It's not technically forbidden to go here, but many of the adults frown upon it due to its potential for danger. So, Nicola and I keep our rendezvous a secret.

Since I had been working a lot more in the mills with my brothers, I haven't had the chance to visit here in months. Rounding the rock, I sigh in relief that nothing was different. It was one of the few things that remained a constant in my life, and it served as a comfort. As I move to sit on the rock, I don't bother looking to see who had joined me. We met here by accident the first time our names were put in, but it turned into a secret ritual.

This may be the last time we have to see each other. But I try not to think about that.

For an hour or so we sit here, trying to come up with something interesting to say. We make random comments that lead to more profound topics that eventually comes back to the reaping. Pretending not to be terrified proved useless yet again. So we stop trying and eventually get it all out.

"What if I'm picked?" Nicola asks lightly, fiddling with her long dark hair for an excuse not to look me in the eye. I stiffen slightly. Though it is constantly on my mind, I never come up with a good answer. There can't be.

"What if you're not?" I counter with a shrug. "And if you are... then I'll jump right in and take your place," I add with a hint of humor. "What would I do without you..." I trail off, fingering a handful of weeds and moss, looking out into the river. The sun was beginning to rise and the view will soon be amazing. Such a bittersweet start for this day.

"I'm serious," she adds with said seriousness. I frown and take a deep sigh. _Who says I wasn't serious?_ I want to say, but I figure it won't go over well. Besides, I'm probably not serious.

"Then I'll root for you and make you promise to kick ass out there." I answer flatly, but with a quirk of a smile. We look at each other for the first time today, and with the edging morning light we can see what's in our eyes. Fear. Understanding. More fear.

Not long after our visit, we wordlessly walk side-by-side back to our own houses. No one is awake in mine and I manage to sneak into my room unnoticed.

My family won't be up for another couple hours, so I crawl into bed for a bit of shut eye.

It doesn't work.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Getting ready for the reaping is easily the most absurd situation. We all have to dress up in our finest outfits and be as dolled up as possible, as if this is something to celebrate.

_Congratulations! You're going to be subjected to being paraded around like a lapdog! Then you'll be thrown into the pit of death, and the only thing that can prolong your imminent death is to make us like you! Better wear heals and a dress! Don't forget to smile!_

Having a seamstress as my mother, I'm always a subject in her attempt to bring some color in my life. Somehow wearing plain jeans and different shades of green flannel tops day after day don't do it for her. I'm her only daughter and seeing what she makes for me just reminds me what a disappointment I must be.

I'm presented with a pale pink frill of a thing with multiple floral patterns. She says it really suits me and it's a refreshing change. Not being much of a girly person, I understood her desire to dress me up like a princess. She says the flowers accent the gold in my blonde hair.

"Thank God," I sigh in relief, noticing the plain white flats in my mom's hands. The year before she had me in heels. I came home with skinned knees and a twisted ankle. The hem of my dress even tore a bit and my mom went ballistic. If I were chosen that day I don't think I could amend the inevitable weak reputation that would result from my lack of grace.

I look into the full-length mirror and crack a smile. She was right about the gold in my hair. It's practically glowing as my mom braids a lock over the side of my hairline. It acts as a hair band and the rest is flowing naturally past my shoulders. I have to admit: I look pretty.

Giving my mom a grateful kiss on the cheek, we begin to leave for the reaping. Just in case, I take one last look around. Being in district seven, we have the advantage of having more money than most of the districts of Panem. I hear about the poor conditions in the outlying districts, like eleven and twelve, and I make sure to never take anything for granted. The house I grew up in is nice. Not luxurious like those in district one or two, but it's proper and I have my own room. I may never come back. I feel a tug in my heart and I say goodbye to my cat.

I, my mom and my brother make our way to the Justice Building. We meet up with Nicola and her mom and step dad, followed by my dad and his wife. My other brother and his girlfriend would meet up in the square. This was it. All the people I care about in the world.

Almost.

After a quick goodbye to our family, Nicola and I quietly sign in and take our places in the organized crowd. God, I hate it that they take our blood. Nicola is in the same row as me but further down, due to alphabetical order. I wish she was next to me.

Just as the mayor takes the stage, I scan the crowd to my left for a certain crop of bushy-hair. I don't bother paying attention to the usual spiel about the thirteen districts and how the Games are a way of punishing us for the uprising. I heard it sixteen times before and I hardly think anything's changed.

There he is. He looks handsome in his simple light green button-up shirt and dress pants. It's odd seeing him so neat. Usually his face is streaked with dirt from work and his clothes even worse. His black hair is slicked back, though it must have taken a lot of gel. He remains stoic and void of emotion, staring straight ahead and not moving a wink as the district's former victors are introduced.

Tearing my eyes away, I force myself to watch Blight and Johanna Mason take the stage. Johanna won the Games a few years back, pretending to be weak so the others would ignore her until the end. That's when she proved she could kill viciously. It was a good tactic, and she was welcomed home a hero. I never talked to her, though. She was four years ahead of me in school, so there was never an opportunity. Blight was a different story. He won several years before. Before I was even born. He seemed kind of… off, though. Even more so as the years wore on. It's sickening to think how much the Games can change someone. I then wonder who would be this year's mentor for the tributes.

I listen to Austrid Belladonna, our district's escort to the Games, just in case there is a change in the Games. Like it's no longer a fight to the death. I know that would never happen.

"Happy Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" she announces excitedly. I laugh bitterly.

My attention turns to the ridiculous appearance of Austrid. She is short and thin, wearing bright green and flowery clothes of an unknown material. Her hair, as usual, was sporting a neon-like yellow wig of what can be described as a birds nest. Her face was caked in white, with only a bright orange patch of lipstick and eye shadow.

Typical Capital look. How disgusting.

Suddenly it is time for the name drawing. My heart skips and jumps sporadically, anticipating the worst-case scenario. In mere seconds someone's family is going to be torn apart forever as they watch their child march to their untimely death. Whose will it be this year?

I swallow the lump in my throat and watch, transfixed, as Austrid's bejeweled hand reaches into the girl bowl and rifle through the tiny pieces of paper. It could be the adrenaline, but it seems to take longer than necessary, but altogether too soon. Finally pulling one out, I try boring my eyes into the back of the paper to read the name. Of course it didn't work. But even if it had worked, there was nothing that could prepare me for what came out of the woman's mouth.

"Nicola Lovitz!" she calls; her shrill voice ringing through the plaza. At first everything is still, as if everyone stopped breathing and the earth stopped turning. I am rooted to the ground. I barely register the girls in my row stepping back to let the name's owner pass. My eyes lock with Nicola's as she shuffles by. A look of dread and fear colored her face. My mouth parted, wanting to say something. Anything that might release my best friend of this burden.

My best friend. Since kindergarten. The two of us became attached at the hip that summer's day. She had just moved in to the house across from mine. Her mom had been dating the house's owner for a while and decided to take their relationship to the next step. I had been in my front yard with a jump rope, running around while my brothers wrestled each other by our tree.

Her hair was so long and almost black. She smiled at me and I remember marveling at the space between her two front teeth. I always wondered why she wore a thick coat in the middle of Summer. Since then we played outside every day, spent the night at each other's houses every weekend, and became like sisters. Her mom was like my second mom, and_ my_ mom loved her almost as much as she loved me. Nicola was the only friend I had. The only one I ever needed or could ever want.

And she was being taken away from me.

I watch her yellow sundress gleam from the sunlight. She's so close to the stage, and with each step my heart shatters. Something from within me croaks out. It's not a normal human sound. I'm not sure what it is, but it was loud enough to catch the attention of several people around me. This doesn't suffice. The urgency breaks forth and it happens again, this time louder that even Austrid looks over in confusion.

"N-no!" I yell, legs pulling me through the row of eighteen year-old girls in front. My arms begin flailing as if my brain was afraid I wasn't going to be heard, even though everyone in the square is looking at me by now. A peacekeeper from the side stalked toward me, ready to detain me in my hysterics. "No!" I point to the peacekeeper, edging closer to Nicola as I grab out blindly to my friend.

I pull her behind me protectively, as if I'm her shield against the evil forces that lie beyond the stage. Just as the peacekeeper seizes my trembling form, I completely break down. "Me! Take me! I volunteer!" I call out to Austrid, who I can't believe is my only hope now. The peacekeeper's grip on my biceps are harsher than I expect, and even after my declaration he doesn't cease to drag me away. "Stop!" I growl at him, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Wait, wait, wait," Austrid's sickening voice pierces the silence. The peacekeeper stops, turning his head to look in question. "I believe we have a volunteer!" she announces excitedly for the cameras, motioning for me to come forward. I suspect her extra chipper attitude is meant to spice things up. Either that or she's on something.

I finally tear myself from the peacekeeper's unreasonably tough grip and step toward the stage mindlessly. Nicola reaches out and spins me around to face her. Tears are in her eyes, and her mouth is moving frantically but I can't hear a word. I can tell what she's trying to say. It's in her eyes. Her brown and blue eyes scream at me to shut up and get back in line. But I can't. It's too late. I wouldn't take it back even if I could. Better me than her.

I spin around wordlessly and enter the stage. I ignore the protests coming from Nicola as she is escorted away by the peacekeeper. I can't look at her again. Austrid is beaming and practically radiating sparkles as she leads me to the center beside the bowl of girl names. I'm mildly amazed that she is able to shuffle about in five inch heels.

Clearing her throat, Austrid peers into the crowd in expectation. What could she possibly expect? Another girl to volunteer? "Well, now isn't this exciting? I don't believe this district has ever had a volunteer! What's your name, honey?"

I mentally gag. Honey? "Lawrel Hawke," I say flatly, unwilling to look the ridiculous woman in the eye. Instead I focus on the vast mountain-range in the distance. It looks so lonely.

"Lawrel Hawke. And that was, whom? A cousin? A friend?"

She tilts the microphone towards me and I recoil in reflex, as if it's a venomous snake about to pounce. "Uh," I croak out uncomfortably. "F-friend." I say simply, swallowing harshly. When did my throat get so dry?

"How lovely." she answers, almost condescendingly. "Now why don't we give miss Hawke a round of applause?" she calls out into the crowd, beginning to lightly clap her bejeweled hands together properly. There is silence. No one moves. At first I think it's because no one likes me and wants to see me slaughtered, but then one by one they raise their right arms. I'm speechless. Kissing their three middle fingertips, they all salute me in silence. Everyone does it. People I never knew, people I never talked to in school, people who I thought hated me.

I can feel the cameras on me and I steel myself. Everything I do from now on will play a major part in whether or not the Capitol likes me, and whether or not I'll get sponsors. This show of affection is heartbreaking. I never thought I'd be honored to receive this farewell from my district. Though it's a sign of saying goodbye to someone you love, it's a touching concept.

I can't look at my family, who by now would give me the kind of expression that would take the heart of me. My mind continued to buzz in disbelief. It hadn't kicked in yet.

"Alkon Surgios!" the speakers ring out frighteningly. I snap out of my reverie to look at Austrid in question. A movement from the boy crowd catches my attention. And it suddenly dawns on me as the peacekeepers walked on either side of the name's owner.

His dark eyes keep to the ground in front of him. Still expressionless.

My heart stops.

Those same brown orbs I saw in grade school. Only back then, he wore these big square glasses and suspenders. Despite looking like a complete dork I was instantly drawn to him. Other kids made fun of him and he turned into quite the loner in those years. That is, until he grew up and people found out he was the younger brother of a cool kid. By middle school he was one of the most popular boys in school. Though you wouldn't know it by talking to him one on one. In that time I managed to do just that. He was... humble. And insightful. His new-found popularity did nothing to quell his down-to-earth nature. His indifference made him even more likable to others, and everyone wanted to be his friend.

Over the years I admired him from afar; picking up on striking similarities between us. I would talk to him every once in a while, about our mutual love for art and music, and we were on good terms. I always wanted more; to hang out with him outside of classes and become friends with him, but my shyness prevents me from taking that step. And now I will never get the chance.

Once he is on the stage and Austrid finishes announcing our names into the cameras, the Anthem plays and his eyes finally move.

To meet my icy blues.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I am alone. I can't remember what happened in the space between staring into Alkon's eyes and ending up in this room in the Justice Building. His eyes... they held something so subtle yet overwhelming. In that moment I saw an array of emotion in them. Among them were fear, confusion, pity and worry.

Sitting on a plush couch, I stare out the window. The glare of the sun's rays make the impressive scenery a blur. It wouldn't matter if I could see clearly anyway. I'm not paying attention to my surroundings. To anything, really. I'm only vaguely aware of my inability to breathe correctly. So many things happened that I can't keep up with. Or maybe I can but my subconscious doesn't want to deal with it.

A knock on the door spurs my attention, and as a peacekeeper leads my mother and brothers inside, I can't stop my feet from plunging into her embrace.

She is weeping and shaking uncontrollably. I try to hold it in for as long as possible but the moment my brothers throw their arms around me, I lose it. Suddenly it dawns on me that I'll never see them again. My mom. So sweet and loving: someone who always managed to make me feel like her 'little sunshine'. The song she sang to me as a child echoes in my mind and becomes distant, as if it's from a past life. My mom. Who made all my clothes and protected me from harm.

My oldest brother, Degon. Seven years older and a pain as a kid. The constant teasing and rough-housing that once made me cry in my mom's arms is now something that made me stronger. Because of him I learned to take things in stride and not let every little thing bug me. Now older and more mature, he's become pleasant to be around. Though I suspect it has a lot to do with his long-term girlfriend, Rayla.

Then there's my second older brother, Brett. Five years older and one of the greatest influences as a child. He was the one willing to play with me as a kid and I was closest to him, despite our age difference. I could always count on him to help out in school or find a way to make me laugh. I'm like him in the aspect that we're both shy and introverted. Unlike Degon, who was quite popular in his day.

All too soon the peacekeeper announces another visitor and I am forced to pull away. I give my mom a kiss on the cheek and send a meaningful look to them. No words need to be said. In that moment, our eyes say everything we can't bring ourselves to admit. I had never seen my brothers so emotional before and the sight breaks my heart even more so.

Next is my dad. And I thank the heavens he didn't bring his new wife. We immediately hug and it pains me to realize I can't remember the last time I felt so happy to see him. He and my mom had been divorced for years, and I only visit him every other month or so. It had been dwindling ever since he remarried, because that woman was intolerable. Unemployed and rude, she never turns down an opportunity to insult Brett or my mom. How my dad saw anything past that shrill of a creature to marry is beyond me.

Still, I love him and I don't let thinking about _her_ ruin this moment.

By now he is whispering supportive things into my hair while rubbing my back. Things like 'remain brave and remember everything I taught you,', 'you can do this,' and 'you're stronger than you think you are,'

Somehow through all this I've become calmer than I ever thought I could be at a time like this. We pull away and I notice the familiar smell of pine and wood chips. The sudden rush of nostalgia makes it hard to swallow. Kissing the top of my head, I'm surprised to see him pull his old bandana from his pocket. I remember him wearing it when I was a child. Whenever he went to work he never left home without it. After a long day he would untie it from his head and chase me around the yard. I would scream and laugh, running away in mock terror because it was always so filthy. Sometimes I sneaked it into my room at night during a storm and it made everything better. I think he always knew.

"I found it the other day in the attic." He explains lightly, tying it around my wrist. I nod wordlessly and look up at him. He hasn't began crying yet, though I can see the rims of his eyes glistening. "I love you, Lawrel. I'm so proud of you." He says and I blink away lingering tears.

As he leaves, I see for a brief moment the shiny liquid fall from his eye.

I stay rooted to the spot. My fingertips trace the worn fabric around my wrist, and I can make out where the tree sap and sweat left stains. It must have been washed recently.

Then the moment of truth came. I clear my throat as the last of my visitors stalk in with admirable composure.

The first to assault me is Maria; Nicola's mom. I smile into her embrace, noting the faint smell of beans and rice from her kitchen. Her house always smelled like food, since she was the town cook. Nicola and I are the guinea pigs that tested her new recipes. Maria tried teaching me some things over the years, and although I caught on relatively quickly, my skills weren't nearly as impressive as Nicola's.

Then Sky; Nicola's step-dad, brings me into a bear hug that I always adored. He really was like a bear: stocky and short with a button-nose. He worked in the mill, but kept clear from manual labor due to his bad knees. Him and I got along well during the six years I've known him. We were both goofy and had similar senses of humor. Kindred spirits, we were.

I'm only mildly surprised I'm left alone with Nicola a few seconds later. What do I say?

Silence ensues. I am still unable to look her in the eye like the reaping. I can feel the tension radiating from my best friend, hear the words rolling off of her into the stuffy air.

I know I have a limited time to say goodbye, so I swallow the awkwardness and break the silence. "Hey," I say dumbly, forcing myself to look at her. I can tell by her eyes she hasn't let herself cry yet. Instead she looks angry. Hurt. Betrayed, even. But why? It's not like she wanted to fight to the death. Who would?

"I can't believe how selfish you are!" she unexpectedly spat, causing me to jump back.

"What?" I answer, baffled and confused. "How am I selfish? I just saved your life!" I exclaim softly, holding my hands up in mock surrender. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. A move I had seen countless times since our childhood, though never directed at me.

"How could you do that? Leave your family and friends like you're so indispensable!" She explains in annoyance. I gape at her, unsure of how to react.

Is she scolding me for sacrificing myself? That's ridiculous. I search my muddled brain for something to say that will somehow justify my actions. Something that will make her understand.

"Better me than you," I say lowly. That's all I manage to come up with. Whether or not it's sufficient is yet to be seen.

Nicola's staring daggers at me, though her eyes show her attention is elsewhere. Far away; like she is fighting an inner turmoil. Nicola shakes her head slowly before dropping it into her hands with a muffled sob. Sighing, I cross the room and wrap her in my arms. She was a little shorter than me, like her mom, so it almost feels like hugging a child. Somehow I'm comforted knowing I'm comforting her, even though it's my life on the line. I'm all cried out by now, so I just listen to her quiet sobs and wait for her to calm down.

"You would've done the same thing. Don't hate me for wanting to protect you. We're sisters. I'd do anything for you." I say softly as my temple rests against her long, dark hair. I don't actually know if she'd do the same for me if the roles were reversed, but I'm not about to muddy up the mood by analyzing.

Suddenly the peacekeeper tells her to leave because it's time I'm to be escorted to the train. Hesitantly, she pulls away and wipes her eyes. My breath hitches at the sight of her face. Not because it's drenched with fresh tears, smudged makeup and red with puff. She looks like she's five years old again. I remember when her cat died all those years ago. I was the only one to console her and I stayed up all night with her. My heart pangs as I relive that moment. "P-please, c-come back." She says croakily, and with one last look she is gone.

I don't tell her I will. Because I won't. There's no way in hell I'll make it out alive. I'm not strong, or fast, or skilled in any way that would help me survive. And even if I do manage to avoid the rest of the tributes and dangers in the arena, how can I come back the same person? I can't. It's impossible. If I do manage to win, I won't come back. Not really. For the rest of my life a part of me will still be in that arena. With the other young souls who met their untimely end.

I don't have time to dwell on this, because the peacekeeper escorts me from the Justice Building and into a car. Alkon is beside me and Austrid joins us; chipper as ever.

I try not to look at Alkon, afraid of what I might see. Is he holding it together? Is he just as frazzled as I am? Either way, I'm steeled enough to know I won't be breaking down again anytime soon. So I study my hometown for what's most likely the last time, blocking out the words of my escort as it becomes white noise.

The station is swarming with reporters and their insect-like cameras are trained right in my face. I'm glad I had a fleeting moment to compose myself before this.

We have to stand in the doorway of the train as the cameras take our pictures. It takes only a few minutes but it feels like an eternity. I sigh in relief once we're allowed in, and I have to do a double-take at the sight. It was lavish. More lavish than anything I had ever seen, and this was just in the entrance of the train.

The train begins moving and the speed throws me off. Literally. I jerk backwards, stumbling over my own feet and fall to the ground. My flats fly off only to hang on to my toes and I barely have time to sit up when Alkon offers his hand. I stare up at him momentarily, transfixed by his eyes that bore into mine. As he helps me up, I mentally curse myself for being so clumsy. No one else lost their balance, and Austrid wore four-inch heels! Of course it would happen to me.

I thank him shyly with a nervous laugh and Austrid leads us to our own rooms. Wait… we have our own rooms in a _train_? Taking one look from the doorway of mine I almost want to curl up in a ball and slit my wrists. It's at least three times as big as my room back home and a million times more lavish than the entrance of the train. All of this for a five hour train ride?

Austrid tells us to do whatever we like for the next couple hours until supper time. Finally, some alone time. I watch in silence as Alkon enters his room without hesitation, wondering if I should say anything. Say what, though? 'Hey, it sucks that we're in this thing? I'm sorry that I have to kill you? By the way, I've been in love with you for years: oh well!' I don't have the energy to open that can of worms. Right now, I just want to digest everything in solitude.

Closing the door, I lean against the solid wood and collect my thoughts. I'm a tribute. I'm on my way to the Capitol where I will be molded into something I'm not only to be killed by complete strangers. I won't come out alive. I'll probably die within the first few minutes. My life is over. Yesterday I was just worrying about Nicola being picked, but I never considered what would happen if it was me. And it _is_ me. _It's me_.

This turns out to be a bad idea, because the force of which reality hits me has me collapsing to the ground. My tear ducts fail me and soon my vision becomes a blur of nothingness.

My breathing becomes ragged and the same thing crosses my mind.

What the hell did I do? What the hell am I doing?

I then wonder if it's too late to withdraw my volunteer. Of course it's too late! And even if it wasn't would you still go through with it?

But it's not like Nicola would have been completely helpless, right? Wait… what am I _thinking_? What is _wrong_ with me?

I immediately want to kill myself for going there.

What's the alternative?—Oh, only your best friend's death! God, I'm pathetic. I'm unworthy. I'm a coward.

I slam my fists against my head, trying to beat out these awful thoughts. What kind of sick person am I? I'm no better than the _Capitol_!

_Oh, God._

Feeling bile rise in my throat I fight to wipe away the tears that blocked my vision to see where I'm going. But it's futile. I end up defiling the plush bedding and part of the shag carpet. "Uh, gross," I whisper to myself at what I have done. I wipe my mouth on my arm carelessly and apologize to the bedding.

Unable to crawl away because my legs have turned to jelly, I curl up on the floor in a fetal position and unravel everything I've held in up until now. I recount images of my family, my schooling, my friend. Every memory—the good, the bad, the beautiful… my life literally flashes before my eyes.

Slowly I untie the bandana from my wrist and smother my face with it. The pleasant smell brings on another wave of disgusting sobbing. "Goodbye everybody. Thank you for being my everything. I love you all, and I'm so sorry." I wail into the now drenched fabric of my token.

I'm certain my heart is going to give out any second now, if I don't rip it out of my chest to stop the pain. No. I left my heart in district seven. I am but a shell of a girl that I used to be.


	4. Chapter 3

**_Note: I'm not actually sure if the continuous/shared train rides are accurate, since the books don't specify. Please review and thank you!_  
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**Chapter 3**

_I'm losing balance: struggling to gain proper footing as what looks like blood gushes all around. I'm standing on bodies. Bodies of my district. I see faces I know well; faces I've seen maybe once or twice; and faces of the previous victors of the Hunger Games. My mom, dad, and brothers are toward the top, supporting Nicola's lifeless form under my feet. Her eyes are trained on mine, and for a brief moment they're animate. But the blood continues to rise and soon all I know are lost in a sea of red._

_Just as I begin to tread a giant metal claw stretches from the sky and over my head. I try escaping its clutches but the blood is too thick and the bodies are beginning to surround me. The metal clutches clamp around my midsection and I'm slowly pulled out of the sea. Suddenly a thousand hands shoot up at once to seize me, trying to pull me back. A part of me wants to join them. Because I know them. They're all I have. Without them I'm nothing. So why not drown with them?_

_But my body is so exhausted that I don't struggle as I'm lifted high into the air. The bloody hands lose grip and a blinding light greets me. I'm in a hovercraft. Around me are twenty-two faceless strangers. Beside me is Alkon, and like me, he is covered in blood. Unlike me, he is beaming. Everyone seems happy, and the faceless people only wear inhuman smiles. Austrid pops in with a curling iron and a bag of brightly-colored makeup. I look around in terror to see the rest are caked in Capitol attire; almost like clones. Except for Alkon. He hands me my bandana and wrapped inside is a bloody dagger._

_"What is this for?" I ask, and with a feeling of dread. Then he stares at me in silence, clearly confused._

_"You did this," he says in an obvious tone and he points below our feet to reveal a clear plate of glass acting as a floor. Beneath it I see the endless ocean of blood and bodies of people I knew and loved._

_"You don't need them anymore," Austrid whispers. I seize the dagger and try to wipe the blood off. In the reflection I see myself. But I'm not myself. I'm one of those Capitol clones with a painted-on smile and feral features. I am one of them._

_Insistent tapping and a muffled voice from a distance interrupts my transformation. Alkon is falling through the glass, and in terror he reaches out for me. But it's too late. Instead of grabbing his struggling form I drive the dagger into his neck._

"No!" I groan; coming-to. I'm back on the floor of my train room, shivering and sweating. More tapping draws me to reality and I suddenly know it's really Alkon calling for me. He's on the other side of my door asking if I'm awake.

Breathing slowing down to normal, I push myself into a sitting position, clutching my throbbing head. "I'm awake," I call back weakly.

"It's time for supper," he says, and his fading footsteps indicate I'm alone once again. I decide to push away the lingering feelings of dread and pull myself together as best I can.

My nose crinkles in disgust at the drying piles of vomit on the floor beside me. I can't help to gag at the sight of it dripping down from the foot of the bed. Quickly I stumble to a stand with bandana in hand, wanting to get away from the unpleasant smell, and clumsily make my way to my private bathroom.

"Good God," I say in amazement. It's a mini spa! Embroidered towels of flowers, chrome finishing on the sink, exquisite marble counters, hi-tech shower nozzles with multiple settings, and fresh flowers. I almost don't want to touch anything it's so beautiful. I spend a minute admiring every intricate detail put into this and settle on taking a shower.

"Good God!" I exclaim as the multiple soaps and scents spit out of the shower nozzles. There's a faint smell of roses.

I don't know how anyone can experience this on a daily basis. It's extraordinary. I feel clean and delicate and pampered and girly and _wonderful_. But all good things must come to an end and I turn off the shower. Ringing out my hair, I'm surprised to feel air pushing against my wet skin like jets, drying me completely in a matter of seconds. I watch in amazement as my snow white skin ripples with the force of air.

Even though I'm alone, I try to cover my naked self as I creep out into my room, due to habit. I could've grabbed a towel but they were meant for décor and it was really unnecessary. Quickly I search dressers filled with fine clothes; clothes that make my eyes water from admiration. Some of it was too fancy and impractical, so at last I pick out a dark green button-up shirt with dark blue jeans. "How did they know my size?" I ask to no one, looking at myself in the full-length mirror of the dressing area.

I run a comb through my hair, tie my bandana around my wrist and slip on simple lounge shoes before exiting. Realizing I'm at least a half hour late to supper, I double my speed to the dining car. The room is filled with highly polished panels of wall and the table is adorned with breakable dishes of lovely design. Austrid looks up from the grand dining table in annoyance.

"Tardiness is unacceptable," she snaps at me, causing me to halt. I was used to her being chipper, not scolding. "Especially for a young lady such as yourself."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I then remember about the condition I left my room in. She's not going to like what I've done. I have half a mind to go back and clean it up while it's still mostly wet, but the insistent throat clearing of Austrid makes me sit in a free chair opposite Alkon. His hair is no longer gelled and is wearing something similar to what I have on. I then wonder what types of clothes were at his disposal. Smelling something flowery on him I realize he probably took advantage of the fancy shower as well.

"I'm sorry," I say softly to Austrid. "Something... came up." I force myself not to laugh at the double meaning in my words. Instead I take notice of my mentor, Johanna Mason, sitting at the far end of the table. She's wearing a silk red robe and nothing else but a scowl. She seems a real joy.

I stare at her, unsure of what to say but she gives me a hard look, which prompts me to focus on supper and decide to talk later. Having arrived late, everyone is almost done with the second course. Quickly filling up on what looks safe, I wonder how people in the Capitol eat this much every day. I'm almost full just looking at the abundance of food at display. Then Austrid tells us not to fill up because there's a dessert coming, and decided I can have some despite my tardiness.

Until then I hesitantly try a gooey green soup. I'm not sure what's in it, but it's good enough to digest and it goes well with the rolls.

Dessert is a chocolate cake. I smile, since I'm almost full and I don't even like chocolate cake. Austrid, Johanna and even Alkon look at me like I'm crazy for passing on it. Shrugging, I turn my attention to the sweet hot chocolate in front of me. I had this maybe twice a year for the holidays, and marshmallows were seldom available.

Everyone pretty much kept to themselves; only Austrid made comments about her hopes for the Games and what she liked about the year before.

After we eat we venture into another compartment to watch a recap of the reapings that happened so far. Being the seventh district, there was still five to go around Panem, since the reapings went in order. We had to stay in the train until all twelve were done; picking up the tributes on the way.

We watch in silence as terrified girls and boys are called to the stage. The career tributes are the most disturbing to see. They act as if they're happy to participate in the killing of children. I tear my eyes away in disgust. What kind of people raise their kids to make them believe that it's an honor? Maybe… maybe it's a way of coping. Maybe tricking themselves to like it is what keeps them sane. What else is one to do? Mope around and live in fear? I now don't know what to think about the careers.

I lock eyes with Alkon unexpectedly but as soon as our eyes meet I give him a sad smile and look back in the general direction of the screen. I don't pay attention anymore: it's all the same. Had been watching me?

Just when I think we're done it starts showing our district's reaping. I freeze, not knowing we'd have to watch since we lived it. "Wait, why do we have to watch this?" I ask no one in particular.

Austrid clears her throat lightly from the plush chair and gives me a smile. She doesn't say anything, which makes me wary. Squinting my eyes, I turn my attention back to the screen. This time I do pay attention, though every part of me is screaming not to. For some reason I can't look away.

I try to remain still as I watch Nicola's name being called, but my subconscious can't help reaching for the bandana for comfort. It's eerie watching from this point of view: to be detached when mere hours ago it was reality for me. Austrid coos as a pixilated version of me makes a scene about volunteering. "This was my favorite part," she comments, clapping her hands together in glee. Involuntarily I shrink into myself in discomfort, to which Johanna snorts. I don't like being a spectacle like this. Couldn't we just skip our reaping and be done with it?

Finally it's over and we are set free among the train for the next half hour until we're in the eighth district. Then we are to retreat to the same compartment to watch their live reaping. It was to go this way until we reach district twelve. I think about cornering Johanna, but I really don't want to deal with her right now, so I take to my room. I'm about to jump on the bed when I remember to clean up, but to my surprise it's already spotless. "Who...?" I say, looking around the room as if expecting to find the cleaning culprit. Instantly feeling embarrassed that someone actually saw it, I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed.

"Good… God," I breathe in relaxation. I had never been this comfortable in my entire life. It was like being wrapped in clouds. My eyes drop on their own and the rest of my body seems to want to shut down in this comfort. Just as I'm about to drift off someone knocks on the door. I sit up quickly and give whoever it is an okay to come in.

My breathing stops when I see Alkon slip in. I mentally thank whoever it was that cleaned up my mess and casually fix my hair and sit up straight.

"Are you okay?" he asks, stopping just a few steps in, shutting the door behind him. I stare at him blankly, caught off guard. What kind of question is that?

"Uh… no." I say lowly as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which, it is. "Why would I be?" I comment dryly, furrowing my eyebrows at this topic of discussion.

Alkon scratched the back of his head; something I noticed he did in school when nervous. "You just... you haven't really said anything. And when we watched the reapings..." He looks uncomfortable and seems to be debating whether or not to leave. I'm flattered he even thought of me... or even paid attention.

"Well, it's just... hard, you know." I say lamely with a shrug. Silence ensues and I get the feeling that wasn't the answer he wanted. "Do you want to sit down?" I offer, gesturing to the many sitting arrangements about. He considers his surroundings, and settles on the edge of a cushioned cube next to the nightstand beside me. I don't notice until now, but the room's décor is themed to our district of lumber and trees. Despite the circumstances, I'm impressed they put in so much attention to detail.

Okay, so he wants to talk, that much is clear.

"Is your room like this?" I ask, trying to break the ice and sate my curiosity. He takes a quick survey of the room and nods casually, eyes going back to the floor. He's hunched over with his hands clasped in front of him. "Man, those Capitol people sure know how to live." I comment, and immediately find myself wanting to smack my forehead. Now I'm the one making small-talk.

"I'm sorry, were you going to sleep again?" he asks with a conflicted expression.

"Oh, no. I was just… resting my limbs. For a bit." I answer lamely, shaking my head. He nods in understanding with a small chortle. "I really don't mind the company," I add hastily, wanting to create a more welcoming environment. The last thing I want is for him to give up on talking to me.

He looks at me a moment and decides to believe me, visibly relaxing.

"Have you tried their showers? Holy soaps!" I, for some idiotic reason, bring up. I can just imagine what's going through Alkon's head at my exclamation. His slightly baffled expression says it all... or maybe I'm just over-thinking.

"Y-yeah, it's… it's really something," he responds carefully, beginning to tense up. His dark eyes trace up the wall beside him in what seems like mock interest. Why do I never think before talking?

"So… what's on your mind?" I blurt out, wanting to gauge his attention. His face contorts magnificently in thought, finally settling his eyes on mine.

"You and I don't really talk or hang out," he begins, causing my stomach to flip at the use of 'You and I'. I mentally slap myself for getting ahead of myself, and continue to listen intently. "But you've always been really nice to me. And to others, from what I've heard." Alkon shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "That was a really incredible thing you did today. I don't know anyone who would do what you did. Even for family."

I blink at him several times. Alkon just complimented me. Family only went so far for the Games. What I did was beyond the norm in district seven. Districts one and two, however, were different: volunteering was commonplace. Why I volunteered was an entirely different scenario. I volunteered to protect someone I loved. They volunteer for honor and glory with confidence backed up by years of training. Me? I am but a mouse in a glass house of cougars. Better me than Nicola. "Yeah," I say dumbly, fiddling with the intricate beading of the comforter. "I don't believe it myself." I give a shaky laugh and look away.

Feeling his eyes on me, it takes every ounce of will not to over-analyze the situation. Is this what he wanted to talk about? I doubt it. He seemed to be struggling with something since he came in. But what?

Alkon suddenly rises and I take it to mean he's taxed on interacting with me. I understand: I wouldn't want to talk to me, either. He was decent enough to at least attempt to be polite. I wonder how things will change once we get closer to the Arena. Will he turn into a bloodthirsty career? Will he get close to me and then pick me off first thing? It's too hard to think about him turning into someone like that. But after watching the Games all these years I know how easily someone changes when their lives are on the line. I could become a completely different person, too.

"I'll... see you later," Alkon says awkwardly as he retreats from my room. I wave him goodbye and collapse back on the bed once the door is shut. I think about the nightmare I had not long ago; confused as to why I attacked Alkon at the end. What if I turn on him? I don't think I could ever do that... I care about him too much. But what if it ends up just the two of us at the end? Only one can live. Could I really take his life? Could I really go home knowing I survived when he didn't?


End file.
